Are We Ashes and Wine?
by Kihin Ranno
Summary: He stares at you with those clear-blue eyes you once adored, even if they always did look they were laughing at you, and the joke was a cruel one. But then all his jokes are cruel. It’s just who he is.


Are We Ashes and Wine?  
Written for the 2009 Senshi/Shitennou Ficathon  
Inspired by "Ashes and Wine" by A Fine Frenzy  
by Kihin Ranno  
PG-13  
1/1

He sits across from you at the table, glasses perched on the end of his Roman nose and a hand-rolled cigarillo hanging from his bee-stung lips. He stares at you with those clear-blue eyes you once adored, even if they always did look they were laughing at you, and the joke was a cruel one. But then all his jokes are cruel. It's just who he is.

You cross your legs, cupping your French Bordeaux red wine, full-bodied and heavy in the goblet. You ponder drinking it, but for a mad, vain moment, you don't want to stain your teeth.

"I wouldn't expect to see you here," he comments, squeezing the cigarillo between his thumb and forefinger. "I know you hate anything to do with politics."

You shrug with the shoulder that does not have a strap covering it. "My father and I came to an arrangement. I come to this one event, and he stays far, far away for the foreseeable future."

He smirks, and when he does, you can see a tiny white scar on his chin. "Such maneuvering for a father and daughter."

"I imagine your family dinners are similar," you remark. "Since your father is in the House of Councilors."

He nods, but you know better than to take that as an admission of anything. "Tell me, Rei-san. Do you ever wear anything but red dresses? It seems I only ever see you in a skirt and high heels."

He walks a dangerous line, but you know he does it on purpose. He wants to make you angry, because even though he hates real fire, he loves to stoke your hidden ones. You'll try not to give him the satisfaction.

But then, you've tried before, haven't you?

"There is a modicum of purple and black in my wardrobe, but I do favor crimson," you concede.

"The color of passion," he notes.

You smile, showing your teeth. "The color of war."

He frowns, wrinkling his brow as he does when he remembers something unexpectedly. You wonder if he remembers you burning him, or if he's seeing the blood pouring from the open wound he left in your stomach. And then you wonder if maybe it's the wrong lifetime you're thinking of.

But then, you burned him twice anyway.

You smile with satisfaction, remembering how he touched you when he first saw you, and how you made him pay.

Then you wonder what's made you so bitter, but you dare not discover it.

He brings the cigarillo back to his lips and pulls the smoke into his mouth. He doesn't inhale – one never inhales anything closely resembling a cigar if one values one's lungs. He exhales the smoke without turning his head. You recognize the challenge when you see it, subtle as a knife. You inhale the cloud, and sweet tobacco lines your throat. Not for the first time, you consider smoking cigarettes.

"Did you really just come as a favor to your father, Rei-san?" he asks, purring. But you know he is no ordinary house cat, but a black panther stalking in the night. "Or did you come for something else?"

You arch an eyebrow, remembering what that used to do to him. "For you?"

He shrugs so self-assured, but you recognize the tension around the lines of his mouth, revealing his uncertainty. "Stranger things have happened."

You laugh, full-bodied as the wine in your goblet. You swirl it in the glass, holding it underneath your nose. An undercurrent of oak coats the smoke you've caught in your throat. You wonder if it can be bottled.

"Such arrogance," you mock. You never tease. "One wonders how you survive under the weight of your own ego." You pause and drop your voice to below a whisper. "Jadeite."

He winces at the old name as they all do. They try to tell you they're different men, but you know better, don't you? You know his eyes better than you know your own, and you know how cruel they can be. Perhaps Zoisite can fool Ami with his intellect, Nephrite dupe Makoto with his charm, and as for Kunzite and Minako… well, they've always been magnetized despite the danger – a violent polarity. You can try to stand between them, but you know that they would both bear your burns.

Fine. Let you be the only one with an ounce of sense. Let you be the only one to know that their taint goes past the bone, into the soul. They are stained with the blood of the centuries, and no water can wash it clean.

"Don't use that name," he says, as if he can request anything from you.

"It's who you are."

He crushes the cigarillo into the glass dish, staining its clarity with ash. "You say that over and over again, but if you really believe it, why do you seek me out? You want to see if you're wrong. You want to see if maybe there's a glimmer of something else in these eyes of mine. The ones you burned out of my skull."

You picture it in your mind, how his eyes burned before anything else. You're a little disturbed by the pleasure it brings you, but a swallow of wine drowns the vision. "Isn't it more likely that I'm making sure you don't do more damage than you already have?"

His fists clench, and you wonder if for once he'll lose his temper first. "More damage to who? I know you want me to think it's Mamoru and Usagi, but it's really you, isn't it? You're the one who doesn't want to get hurt."

"I can take care of myself," you assure him, rising to your feet.

He grabs your free wrist, and you swear for a moment, it feels as though you've been branded.

"Oh, no, little girl," he hisses, alight with what you've always feared. "That's where you're wrong. You only think that you're invincible, but you forget that I know you. I've seen you beg, naked and writhing for me. I've seen you on your knees pleading for your kingdom. I've seen you bleed, and I've seen you die. I know the shadows that lurk in the secret places of your heart.

"You wear the color of war well," he spits, releasing you with something akin to disgust. "They think you don't drink in violence like your red wine, but I know you Hino Rei. I knew you when your name – Pelagia – was a secret. I knew you when you raze planets to the ground. And I know that even now, if you could burn down the world and call it righteous, you'd do it and you'd like it.

"You dance in the ashes, Mars," he concludes. "And you can think yourself high and mighty all you want, but remember this. Your eyes are just as cruel as mine."

He leaves you then, shaken and furious. You want to chase after him. You want to beat him. You want to slaughter him right there, in front of dignitaries and diplomats and your father. You want to, but you don't because it would prove his point and Usagi would never forgive you.

You don't love him. Maybe you can lie to yourself until you believe you never did. And maybe you can forget that he told you that you were one in the same.

But you can't quite ignore the lingering taste of ashes and wine in the back of your throat.


End file.
